


Five More Minutes

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A while ago, <a href="http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/">Mandy</a> tweeted: “Someone write a fic where Darren is so used to a half hour nap at the same time every day that on a Monday he sleeps thru most of a blowjob.” So I did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five More Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** : Somnophilia and blowjobs (obviously). Also threw in some facials for fun. PWP, RPF, unbetaed. 
> 
> **Author's Note** : I was hoping to finish this before Darren's Hedwig run ended, but this is pretty close right??

“Okay, I forgot to put it in the fridge and there's no ice, so you're just going to have to –” Chris's voice trails away as he looks up at Darren, who's sacked out on the couch, and – unlike he had been two minutes ago, when Chris had left the room – sound asleep. “You're kidding me. Of course you're not kidding me.” 

Chris sets the cans down and frowns. His first instinct is to nudge Darren awake, because he has to be up, fed, changed, and back out the door sooner rather than later to make it to whatever concert or gig or party he's going to tonight. Chris is reaching out a hand to do just that when he looks down at Darren, really looks at him, and sees the shadow of stubble against his pale skin, his eyes closed above dark circles. 

Well, a quick power nap can't hurt.

Chris grabs his phone in the meantime, idly browsing Instagram while he waits. He's planning on giving Darren fifteen minutes, but then he Googles the length of the ideal nap, and finds that it's anywhere between ten and twenty. Another glance at Darren's motionless, exhausted face tells him that five more minutes would probably wouldn't be the worst idea in the world.

He really can't let it go on for much longer than that though. Setting his phone aside, Chris stands and heads back to the couch. Darren hasn't stirred so much as an inch, and Chris feels like some kind of monster as he cautiously says, “Darren?”

No response. Not even a twitch.

Chris sighs. He wants to just shake Darren back to life and have Darren call him a dick and get on with the day, but Darren's been so _tired_ lately, which means there's more than a little guilt attached to the idea. True, it's Darren's own choice to go out on his night off – he can never resist the lure of a friend behind a microphone – but there's no way that anyone that worn out could be happy about waking up.

Well. Actually. Chris can think of _one_ way. He arches an eyebrow and looks away from Darren's face, farther down at his arms crossed loosely over the thin t-shirt covering his stomach, his jeans. It would be easier if Darren were naked, of course, but that just makes it more challenging. And Chris doesn't like to back down from a challenge.

He nudges the coffee table back a little as he scoots between it and the couch, quietly dropping to his knees. A quick glance reveals that Darren's still dead to the world. Chris reaches out to slide the hem of Darren's shirt up, watching his expression closely. 

Nothing.

Chris runs a few fingertips along the skin, prickling with stubble, just above Darren's waistband. 

There's still no reaction. He truly is out like a fucking light.

Carefully, but with increasing boldness, Chris cups Darren's dick with one hand. It's soft under his jeans, but Chris isn't concerned about that. He presses down lightly, and as he starts to rock his palm, Darren huffs out a small breath and flexes his hips, a slight, gentle sway. Chris stills his movements, but nothing else happens.

So Chris goes back to work, gently rubbing over Darren's swelling cock through his pants, feeling it pulse and twitch. Darren's breathing deepens as Chris continues to stroke, his mouth coming open, a damp, enticing curve. As Chris had suspected, it doesn't take long to get Darren hard – hard enough that his jeans are becoming a major impediment, anyway, and Chris moves both hands to the button. He holds his breath as he slides it free, watching Darren's face, then slowly eases the zipper down, leaving room for Darren's erection to swell out, covered in gray-blue cotton. Somehow, for his part, Darren sleeps on.

And _that's_ when it becomes a game. Because it's no longer about waiting to see when Darren wakes up, it's about _how long_ Chris can drag it out before he does. 

He has to regroup though. His first thought had been _blowjobs: nature's alarm clock_ , but he's pretty sure that he'll be pressing his luck if he tries to maneuver Darren's jeans and underwear down far enough to make that _really_ happen. He'll just have to improvise.

While he considers his options, Chris goes back to teasing Darren to full hardness, running his fingers over and along Darren's cock, the fabric of his briefs dragging lightly. He dips his head to run the flat of his tongue along Darren's abdomen, trailing it from the groove at one side of Darren's hips to the other, the growing-in hair rasping. Sex since _Hedwig_ started has been like a full-body exercise in beard burn, but it's a fair trade for how much fun Chris has been having right after Darren's shaved, when he's as smooth as he can be.

He replaces his hand on Darren's clothed erection with his lips, not even kissing, just dragging along the length of it. He starts sucking here and there, loose with an open mouth, dampening Darren's briefs where he's not already dampening them himself. All the while, he listens for noises from above – and there are some, heavier breaths with a hint of voice – but it's clear that Darren still isn't awake. Good.

Chris inches the waistband of Darren's underwear back next, exposing the flushed head of his cock, which beads fluid under Chris's watchful eye. Cautiously, oh-so-cautiously, he slides his tongue out and along the salty crown. One corner of Chris's brain is _so sure_ that's going to be what ends the whole thing, so when it doesn't, he _crows_. Silently, of course.

And he keeps going, getting bolder by increments, graduating from a teasing tongue-tip to broader, firmer passes that roll all around the head, search down under the ridge, lap up drips of precome. Darren's definitely whining now, and squirming, so Chris knows he's tempting fate. He slows down, pulls back and then edges forward so that he's cradling just the first inch or two in his mouth, gently massaging the underside with his tongue.

Darren stops moving so restlessly, and, emboldened, Chris seals his lips into a ring and sucks.

Of course, because Chris thinks he's in the clear, _that's_ when Darren jerks awake, gasping then bucking up with a fuzzy sounding, “Wha...? Chris?” 

The angles don't really allow the sharp movement to carry Darren's dick all the way into Chris's throat, but Chris sputters as he's jostled and yanks back all the same. Darren's hips churn one more time and he drops his head back against the pillow with a groan. “ _Fuck_. What? What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I could get you off before you woke up,” Chris says, swiping the back of one hand over the side of his mouth. “Guess not.”

Darren cranes his neck up to look at Chris again. “Well, you were pretty fucking close, just so you know.”

“I'm kind of impressed that you stayed unconscious as long as you did,” Chris admits. He starts tugging at Darren's jeans, trying to get him all the way out to finish him off.

“Well, once you've slept through people stabbing you in the eyes while they're putting on your makeup, you can sleep through just about anything,” Darren explains. He bumps his hips up, interrupting Chris's work on his pants. “Stop that.” 

“Don't you want me to...?” Chris asks with a frown, his hands hovering over Darren's erection, which has barely flagged. 

“Duh. But first I think you should take off your pants and get up here too.” 

Chris shrugs, used to the vagaries of Darren's whims. It's not like he's opposed to the idea. His neglected, aching cock definitely isn't, and it happily throbs its approval as Chris wriggles out of his jeans. He shucks his t-shirt too, because it feels dumb to leave it on while he strips off everything below the waist. Darren just watches, his eyes dark and approving, but he doesn't move to take off any of his own clothing. Chris gives him a dubious look. “You're staying dressed?”

“For now,” Darren says easily. “Hop on.”

“Darren, I'm not –” Chris starts, but Darren cuts him off.

“No, no, I don't mean that. Just get on the couch with me. It'll be fun. I promise.”

Chris rolls his eyes and starts to stretch out over Darren's body, but Darren lifts his hands to catch Chris's waist and his chest, keeping him from lying down. “No, stay up there.” His grip forces Chris to stay on his knees and sit back.

“Darren, I _just said_ I'm not –”

There are hands on his thighs then, urging him forward. “ _Chris_ ,” Darren interrupts again, rolling his eyes. “Just get the fuck up here, all right?” 

Chris looks down at Darren, flat on his back between Chris's parted legs, his head propped up and forward by the pillow and the arm of the couch and – “ _Oh_.” He scoots forward, but even as he does so, protests: “You have a show tomorrow. I'm not fucking your face.”

“Just don't shove your dick down my throat and I'll be fine,” Darren retorts. “Come on, I want to blow you.” 

“ _I_ was blowing _you_ and you made me stop,” Chris complains, positioning himself so that his thighs are tight against the soft material of Darren's t-shirt, his erection bobbing in front of Darren's face. 

Darren takes it in one hand and licks a bold, unhesitating stripe over the tip. While Chris twitches and hisses, he says, “Yeah, man, but you know how fucking horny it makes me when I have to wait. You basically _discovered_ how fucking horny it makes me when I have to wait. And what better way to wait than with your dick in my mouth?”

“Hard to argue with _that_ ,” Chris replies, and the last word punches out of him when Darren starts sucking in earnest. True to his word, he doesn't take Chris deep, but there's more than enough that he can do with his hand and his lips and his tongue, and with shallow suction that doesn't extend too much past the head of Chris's cock. Darren wraps his free arm around Chris's body, his fingers splaying dangerously close to the cleft of Chris's ass, then wiggling just barely inside of it and down. 

Chris swears and writhes awkwardly because he's trying _not_ to shove his dick down Darren's throat – a favored pastime that aches in his muscle memory. Instead, he ends up moving in aborted little jerks while Darren works what he's not taking with one hand. Between that and his and the firm but not-too-insistent pressure Darren's exerting on and down under his hole, Chris is getting plenty close plenty fast anyway. It adds an extra twist of heat to the whole thing, too, that he's naked while Darren is still mostly clothed. He grabs the back of the couch and buries his other hand in Darren's hair, which might not be the best choice, because he wants to use it to tug Darren's head forward, wants to _yank_ Darren onto his cock, and but he can't.

Darren makes an inquisitive noise, continuing to suckle and rub with enthusiasm. “Yeah,” Chris grits out, because it's good and there's heat mounting in his belly that's going to crest soon and drag him under. “Really fucking close.”

With a pleased hum, Darren gives a parting suck to the tip of Chris's dick and leans away. Chris relaxes his grip on Darren's head enough to let him, but Darren doesn't go far, moving just a few inches back, where he drops his mouth open as he starts stripping his hand rapidly over Chris's cock, sliding through precome and spit. 

Chris grunts, then pants. He lets go of Darren's head entirely to cover Darren's fist with his other hand and speed it up a touch more, because he's right there, it's _right there_ , and he's going to paint it all over Darren's face. 

The shove over into orgasm is sudden and swift, and Chris curls forward, angling his cock while they jerk it so that his come spurts messily across Darren's chin and into his open mouth and up onto one cheek. Darren groans appreciatively – he always seems to enjoy the dirtiest parts of sex the most – and then his body twists up underneath Chris's, and he lets out a sharp, needy-sounding noise. His face is flushed under the streaks of Chris's release, and his brows are furrowed and pulled down over his pinched-shut eyes.

Chris thinks at first that he's trying to get some relief for his own arousal, and Chris is totally going to help just as soon as the fuzziness at the edges of his vision clears up, but then Darren puffs out a final _huh_ and flops back onto the pillow, heaving for breath, his muscles going lax. 

Wait a second. Chris blinks his eyes fully open. “Did you just –?” 

“Oh yeah,” Darren mutters. “ _Fuck_ yeah.”

Chris kneels up and shuffles backwards until he's sitting on Darren's thighs instead of his chest. Darren's not kidding: his cock is still ruddy but it's softening, and there are wet spatters all over his stomach and the hem of his t-shirt. “What are you, fourteen?” Chris asks.

“All day long if it means I get to blow my wad that spectacularly,” Darren shoots back. He starts swiping at his face lazily with one hand. 

Rolling his eyes, Chris retorts, “I don't have sex with fourteen-year-olds.”

“Apparently, you don't really need to.” Darren wipes his palm on his t-shirt, then pushes himself upright and takes it off entirely, using it to finish cleaning his face and his belly. “We just have to suck you off and we're jizzing all over ourselves.”

“Okay, using the word _we_ right now is just creepy,” Chris says. He starts to shift up and away, but Darren grabs him by the arm and pulls him down, where he lands against Darren's chest with a startled _oof_. “What are you doing? You need to get up and get ready.”

Darren wraps both arms around Chris, smooshing Chris's face down into his neck. “I'm not doing anything. _We_ are cuddling.”

“I don't like cuddling,” Chris mutters darkly.

“You don't hate it as much as you pretend to either,” Darren says, unbothered. He starts drawing aimless little patterns on Chris's back.

Chris sighs, because Darren's not wrong. And he especially doesn't mind cuddling at times of high stress – and with a book launch mere weeks away, Chris is nothing if not stressed. He protests weakly, one more time: “You have to leave soon if you want to get there on time.” 

“Just five more minutes,” Darren murmurs, his mouth at Chris's temple. It's comfortable, and Chris finally lets himself slump down heavily against Darren's body.

“Okay. Five more minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ You can find the tumblr post [here](http://luckiedee.tumblr.com/post/125610418057/five-more-minutes-crisscolfer-fic).


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